


Homeless

by Cur



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, M/M, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Avengers - Freeform, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur/pseuds/Cur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers can't find a home -- and it seems his PTSD and depression make sure he can't leave the war either. So, the Avengers and Steve's friends desperately try to help him: some more than others.<br/>AKA Steve is sad and Tony is horny, but Bucky is lonely</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeless

_BANG!_

Steve ducked his head, using his arms to defend his face. Laughter comes from the area of where the sound had come from, and it takes the soldier a full minute to process it wasn't a bomb. He relaxes and rubs his sweaty hands together, exhaling a shaky sigh. An oldies band plays, the trumpet causing Steve to be tense. The pictures are modern, but the dim lighting requires a flash and a slight click -- which isn't pleasant for Steve either. For some God damn reason, Tony had heard of Steve's birthday (July Fourth) and put together a 40s dance party. It looked vividly like what Wanda had shown him not a few weeks ago. However, he doesn't show this. The captain just straightened his tie and smiled, thanking his friends for _such_ a wonderful party.

He wore his own military suit Clint and Natasha had dug up, so he couldn't say no. Steve almost turned around to leave, but a tap on his shoulder pulls back his attention. Before he can identify who it is, the voice says, "Are you ready for our dance?" He shivered involuntarily, but kept a positive front. A scoff left his lips as he examined Sharon, who appeared in a familiar outfit to her aunt. He inhaled sharply, putting on an amused expression. "You look great, Sharon."

The agent smirked back, her hands adjusting the dress and her curled hair. "I raided Aunt Peggy's old closet. So I hope this meets your...expectations." Her words were breathy, her lips were close to his ear -- he shivered. If Stark had been near the conversation, he would've commented "kinky". Steve had to resist the urge to mock him. "Invading my dead girlfriend's closet? _Total_ turn on, Sharon." Sharon snorted. "Can't blame a girl for trying. Some of us aren't rich enough to buy a ton of 40s clothes and makeup." Her hands then went around his neck, his hands on her waist. "Fair enough."

The couple danced for a while, speaking of the party and how Tony could be so dramatic. When the conversation ceased, Tony immediately proved them right. The lights dimmed and the slurring avenger crawled his way to the microphone. As usual, Tony picked the perfect time to be extremely drunk. Even so, he carried on with his performance. Steve's eyes found Pepper, who looked a little tipsy herself, but completely fed up with Tony. The billionaire pulled down the stand and giggled, taking the mic and put his lips against in. "Ladies... LADIES AND **GENTLEMEN**!" Tony roared, his laughter changing into snorting. "Oh...OKAY! 'Tis is our good 'ood friend STEVEN GRANT ROGERS' **BIRTHDAY**!!!!!!!!!!" Tony hollered. "To celebrate his old _fine_ ass, we shall rewind that watch and dancing...dancing. TO THE VIDEO!"

Steve sighed as Tony started to snore, the screen going down on top of him. Old music started playing after the countdown appeared. "The year is 1943, and the war between dictatorship and democracy thickens! Can Captain America take down the Nazi group, Hydra?" The screen went to Steve, helmetless, gesturing to the map and talking inaudibly. "Let's hope so! According to our strong Allied Army, the leader is called Johann Schdmitt, and he has some magical powers. It's nothing we can't handle, as we stand united! Divided, we shall fall."

The movie went on to show old memories -- mostly the _great_ Captain America fighting the Nazis, blowing things up, and defending himself with his mighty shield. Steve tensed to the explosions, and a few bottles popping in the background. Laughter behind him seemed to repeat like a remix, matching up with the people screaming in agony. How the hell was this suppose to amuse him? He was practically shaking, resisting the urge to snap. 

The clip finally ended around an hour later, the screen going up. "Good night, ladies and gentlemen. Leave the presents!" Howard ordered, smirking.

Wait.

"Howard?" Steve looked around, his eyes going to the Stork Club sign. No, no, this was all wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen, especially with all of these people around. He tried to relax his heaving chest, but it became difficult when Peggy questioned if he was quite alright. So he thought back to the sessions with Sam --

"There was music. Oldies. I turned around and...my old life was there. I blink, and I'm all alone." Steve had sighed, looking at the ground blankly. Only Sam's eyes went to him. "And...it made me think. I _am_ alone. No illusion or hope can change that."

"You're not alone," came as a groan from the group, and Sam had smiled _very_ forcibly.

After everyone had left, Steve met with Sam, explaining that the class really wasn't helping. He didn't feel understood, he didn't feel like anyone cared. He felt stuck. Sam told him to stop coming to the classes and gave him a little speech instead--

"My name is Captain America -- My name is Steve Rogers. I was born in 1918. I should be dead. I fought in World War Two. The war's over. I'm home. I'm safe. I'm in the twenty first century. My friends are dead. This is not real. This is **not real. THIS IS NOT REAL. _THIS IS NOT REAL-_** "

"Steve, stop!"

Steve blinked as he looked around, noticing the club was torn apart--and God, his fists hurt. The place was about isolated, minus a few stranglers who were passed out -- most likely from drinking. He was panting, his finger tips dug into his head. Sharon and Sam were kneeling by him, looking concerned and worried...even a bit scared. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I just-"

"It's not your fault. There was just a lot of triggering around you-"

"No, Sam it _is_ my fault. I'm a mess, I'm such a fucking _mess_. I can't handle a simple party or some old videos."

"Steve-" Sharon tried.

"I'm just gonna go home."

Steve stood up, surprisingly receiving no protest from the pair. He left the dance floor, his eyes looking at the mess he created. Food was everywhere, banners were torn, and tables were thrown over. A few horrified guests cowered behind them. Out of remorse, he stepped forward, ready to apologize and explain himself. "Please, stay away!" "Don't touch us!" Steve's helping hand withdrew, and his jaw set. He had heard the people's fear of the heroes turning, snapping... He just believed it would never happen. Especially not to _him._ The music sounded like it was dying: a single trumpet played a death march.

Continuing his shameful walk out, he passed Natasha and Thor: the only two left sober. "Steve, maybe traveling isn't your best option. You're still shaken up, there's still a room open for you." The Norse God nodded in agreement to the redhead. "Romanoff is right, Captain. I am no Jane Foster -- my _girlfriend_ \-- but it is easy to see your state is as good as Stark's." The trio's attention went to Tony, who was snoring on stage. Thor practically roared with laughter, getting irritated and questioning looks from the others. Thor quickly shut up, taking an interest in his Asgardian alcohol.

After finally agreeing with Natasha, she led him to his old room. She left after turning on the lights, isolating the captain. The windows were open, the breeze blowing the curtains back, as well as his hair. Recalling that Sam had suggested that the cold could be another trigger for him, he slammed them shut, struggling for air.

The night _couldn't_ be worse...until he remembered his birthday was also America's birthday.

Steve sat on top of his bed (which was _way_ too soft), calming himself to the night's silence. It wasn't very late, but the patriot had a tendency to stay up for several days, so, around 6:45, he passed out. Not long after, an explosion went off, causing him to jump up and grab his shield. He ran down the stairs, ready to ask of the events before spitting out orders, but everyone seemed relaxed and amused.

His eyes went to Sam. Immediately after the eye contact, an understanding passed through them. 

_It's just fireworks_ , Steve told himself.

_Steve Rogers needs some help_ , Sam realized.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was half decent ;-;  
> Leave opinions and suggestions below !!!  
> Thank you sm for reading omf


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